


Fashion Shows and Old Friends

by Angelily_Viventis



Series: Alan Rickman x Plus-size reader [13]
Category: Alan Rickman - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Anna Wintour - Freeform, Daddy Alan, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Eiffel Tower, F/M, Family Feels, Fashion & Couture, Fluff, France (Country), Kanye West - Freeform, Karl Lagerfeld - Freeform, Married Couple, Married Life, Older Man/Younger Woman, Paparazzi, Paris (City), Size Difference, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:47:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24001579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelily_Viventis/pseuds/Angelily_Viventis
Summary: After hearing about her dear friend, Karl Lagerfeld's, retirement from the fashion business, Alan and (Y/N) decide to take Alyson to France to attend his very last fashion show.
Relationships: Alan Rickman/Original Female Character(s), Alan Rickman/Reader
Series: Alan Rickman x Plus-size reader [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729954
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Fashion Shows and Old Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: these are individual one-shots and function as stand-alone chapters. None of the work in these series follow on each other unless indicated as "Parts".

(Y/N) finds an open parking spot in front of the house and pulls over. She takes her keys in hand and reaches behind her to grab her purse and Harrods shopping bag from the back seat. After alarming the car she heads over to the front door, unlocks it, and steps into the house.

She smiles to herself as she takes in the scene before her: Aly is hunched over the coffee table with her tongue poking out, face scrunched up in concentration while busy drawing a picture.

She looks up and has a clear line of sight of Alan busy making dinner in the kitchen while humming along happily to the song playing softly over the stereo.

 _My family_ , she thinks proudly to herself.

(Y/N) quietly takes off her coat and hangs it in the closet, careful not to disturb the scene. She places her bags carefully down on the sideboard and kicks her heels off.

While walking over to her three-year-old, Alyson turns around at the sound of the floorboard creaking and gleefully shouts,

"Mumma! You home!" She jumps up from the floor and sprints across the room crashing into her mother's open arms. (Y/N) laughs joyfully and squeezes her baby tight while picking her up.

"Mummy missed you so much, bubba! This day has been way too long, huh?"

"Mumma, I show you my pictuw," Aly points toward the coffee table.

(Y/N) carries Alyson over and looks at the drawing she made. She recognizes some of Alan's own doodles between the scribbles that Alyson made and smiles proudly looking over at her husband tasting the dish he's preparing. She places a loving kiss on her daughter's forehead and hugs her tightly.

Meanwhile, Alan has caught a glimpse of his wife as she moves around the front of the house with Alyson attached to her hip. He thinks to himself how wonderful she is with their little girl. Aly couldn't have asked for a better mother, and he couldn't have asked for a better partner and wife.

He can see the tension visible in her shoulders and figures she must have had a rough day at work. He lowers the heat on the sautéing onions and walks over to the liquor cabinet to fetch two long-stem wine glasses and a bottle of sweet red wine.

He pops the cork soundlessly and fills their glasses to the brim, setting hers aside on the kitchen counter while taking a long sip of his own.

(Y/N) puts Alyson back down at the coffee table so she can continue her crafts and walks over to Alan in the kitchen. She stops and leans against the doorframe of the kitchen, her hand on her left hip.

 _He looks so sexy when he cooks_ , she thought and draws her bottom lip between her teeth.

He is dressed in khaki cargo pants and a white and baby blue striped shirt. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows exposing his thick toned forearms. The top four buttons are undone exposing the soft skin of his neck and chest area and (Y/N) licks her lips. She didn't even notice Alan turning around at one point, looking at her.

"I don't want you spoiling your appetite," he pulls her from her naughty thoughts with his deep velvety voice.

She smiles shyly and blushes at being caught. She walks over to her husband and wraps two arms around his waist from behind.

"I love it when you cook for us," she says muffled against his back.

"Well, I love cooking for us."

It's true. Alan loves trying new dishes and spoiling (Y/N) with homemade French cuisine on special occasions. Although (Y/N) is the baker in this house, having owned a bakery back when she was still studying, Alan loves to bake pastries.

Each Sunday morning (Y/N) will walk in on Alan and Aly baking something in the kitchen, flour streaks and perspiration visible on Alan's face.

Alan turns her around and holds a spoon out for her to taste. She takes the spoon in her mouth and releases it with a satisfying hum.

"Hmmmm. Oh my God. That is amazing." Alan chuckles and places a kiss on her supple lips.

"Thank you, Darling. I'm making beef bourguignon. It will only be ready in about 30 minutes. Why don't you grab your glass of wine and relax upstairs while I set the table, hm? I left your post on your office desk. There's something from Karl that you might want to take a look at," he says as he places soft kisses in the crook of her neck.

"Oooh, sounds promising," she muses and slaps his buttocks playfully before leaving the kitchen for her office.

She sighs as she approaches her desk seeing all the bills and paperwork she needs to sift through. She looks over to her post neatly sitting atop the corner of her desk when something yellow catches her eye. _A sunflower_.

Alan has picked a bright yellow sunflower from the old neighbour next door and left it on top of her post. He knows it's her favourite flower and he also knows how much it just brightened (Y/N)'s day. She smiles like an idiot down at the sunflower, lifts it to her nose, and takes a deep sniff of the sweet aroma. She places it gently in her pen holder and proceeds to open her post.

After sifting through utility bills, kindergarten newsletters, RADA correspondence, and multiple letters from a friend traveling overseas, the last letter caught her attention - a beautiful glittery golden envelope with black lace edges and bold black calligraphy. She rolls her eyes at the extravagant dramatics.

 _Oh, Karl. You've done it again,_ she thought.

The letter was in fact an invitation to her friend Karl Lagerfeld's Fall/Winter 2019 fashion show. His very last fashion show before he retires from Chanel, mind you.

She opens the letter and is blown away by the detail and effort that went into the handwriting and handcrafted paper. It is all written in French and spoke of regal importance.

"He sure is going all out with this one." She finished reading the invitation when her phone chimed.

_Dinner's ready. Come downstairs. AR._

She rolls her eyes playfully and giggles.

_Why does he always sign his name?_

It's not like she doesn't know who it's from. She neatly packs all the letters back into a pile on her desk and jots down a reminder to write back to her traveling friend, on a pink post-it note.

Downstairs Alan has already set the table and is busy placing Alyson in her booster seat. He proceeds to dish a generous amount of beef bourguignon in each's plate.

After saying a table prayer they all tuck into their food with gusto.

"Did you see the letter?" Alan asks (Y/N) between bites and rests his hand comfortably on her thigh.

"Did I ever! It's an invitation to his last show," she replies matter-of-factly and envelopes his hand with her own.

"Oh, yes, I forgot he's retiring. Where is it being held this time?"

"Well, that's the thing. I really want us to go since it's going to be a big deal to him, but it's being held at The Grand Palais in Paris this year. I'm not sure if it's going to interfere with your upcoming filming."

Alan sits back in his chair and thinks intently for a minute. He frowns and runs his tongue along his top teeth, clearing it from any food.

He clears his throat, "it shouldn't be a problem. We can stay for a few days after the show and make it a family vacation," he shrugs.

"You want to take Aly to Paris? Ala-" she sighs exasperated, but he cut her off.

"It'll be fine. She's older now and it's only an hour's flight. She's at an age now where she's starting to form memories and she's old enough to fully understand the cultural exposure," he squeezes her thigh.

(Y/N) rests her chin on her hand, looks over at her sweet daughter trying to stab a piece of beef with her fork and sighs.

"Okay, okayyyy," she drawls.

"But I'll have to double-check to see if I can take a few days off."

"Oh, give up! You are the boss over there. You can take as many days as you want," he says low and close to her ear and she pulls her shoulder up in reflex, smiling like a goof.

"Yeah, you're right. I guess the time away will do us good."

The flight over to Paris was crowded. Alan likes traveling Economic class even though he can afford to travel First Class. He says it keeps him _grounded_ and that _just because he has money, doesn't mean he deserves better than anyone else_. (Y/N) would slightly disagree.

Flying with a toddler is no child's play. Flying First Class, or even Business for that matter, would've made their lives much easier. Alyson has been fussy ever since they left the house this morning and being strapped in and trying to have her sit still in a plane jam-packed with strangers isn't helping the situation.

Forty-five minutes into the flight and her ears haven't popped yet. They tried giving her something to chew on before take-off, but since she was fussy she didn't want to eat anything.

After a good amount of tantrums and crying, she fell asleep safely wrapped in her daddy's arms while waiting for the other passengers to unboard the plane. Since Alan is occupied with a sleeping Alyson, they wait for (Y/N) to give their documents in at customs and clear them for entering the country.

As they wait in line at the carousel for their luggage, a few French paparazzi took steal-shots of the family, shouting at Alan in French and drawing the crowd's attention to them. Surrounding star-struck passengers started taking pictures with their cellphones and a few even had the decency to come up to him and ask for an autograph while shouting his name from afar. Alan is furious as he's trying to shield Alyson's sleeping face from the flashing lights with his large tubby hand and trying to cover her ears from the noise.

(Y/N) violently grabs their shared suitcase from the carousel, ducks behind Alan, and places a hand firmly on the small of his back, steering him over to the nearest exit as the crowd starts to draw in on them.

"My God! Are there no end to these people?!" he half-shouts in disgust as they come to a halt on the sidewalk in front of the Charles de Gaulle Airport.

"Shhh. You'll wake up Aly," she says quietly while rubbing his back in an attempt to calm him down.

Alan's face is red from anger and (Y/N) knows how much he hates when people meddle in his private life. Not only that, but they put Aly's life at risk by drawing a crowd.

"It's okay, Al. Luckily nothing bad happened - it could have been worse," she says sweetly.

He looks over at his wife and blows a breath through his nose and he can feel the stress leaving his body at her delicate touch on his arm.

"You're right. I'm sorry for overreacting. I just... I hate that they steal photos of us just to sell it to the public," he rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

"Come on, Karl's boy toy is here," she jokes and drags him gently by his arm towards the awaiting black Maserati which had one of Karl's multiple assistants in the driver's seat.

Once at The Park Hyatt hotel (Y/N) checks them in and the family head into the lift to their luxury suite.

She holds the door open for Alan and he walks through, carrying Alyson over to the king-sized bed and gently laying her down on the crisp white linen. He quietly takes his shoes and jacket off and nestles in next to her on the bed.

As it's still chilly even with the indoor heating on, he maneuvers the throw at the bottom of the bed with his foot, pulling it up towards them. He places the fabric over Alyson's sleeping form and covers his legs up to his waist.

(Y/N) can not hold back her snickering at seeing him almost setting up a nest like a mother hen. He hears her muted giggles and lifts his head from the pillow into the direction where she's leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom. He pulls his eyebrows in a questioning manner.

"You're seriously going to take a nap?" she whispers after removing her hand from her mouth from when she tried to cover her laugh earlier.

"Well, I might as well since Aly's sleeping," he retorts quietly.

"Old man," she says smiling while shaking her head and walks over to his side of the bed.

She leans over his laying form, steadying herself with her hands on the bed at either side of his head and places soft kisses on his mouth. Alan instinctively wraps an arm around her waist.

"In that case... I'll... go down... to the spa... and relax... before the show... tonight," she mumbles between kisses.

She decides to pull away before things get heated, but Alan roughly grabs her by the wrist as she's walking away and pulls her back to him resulting in her crashing against his chest. He places a passionate kiss on her lips and a frown settles in between her eyebrows as they break apart.

"Now you may go," Alan says smirking.

After waking up to Aly stirring next to him, Alan ordered room service for the three of them before heading out for the evening.

While waiting for the food, he switches on the television to a French kids' show for Aly to watch. He walks over to the closet and gently removes (Y/N)'s outfit from the dry-cleaning bag hanging against it, laying it delicately out on the bed.

He moves on to his own garment bag and neatly removes his garments, placing it on the bed next to his wife's.

He walks into the enormous bathroom and runs a bubble bath in the claw tub.

"Aly, darling. Come have a bath," he calls to her in the front room.

She waddles into the bathroom and he helps her remove her garments. After washing her and drying her off with a thick fluffy white towel he dresses her in black leggings, a black tutu, and a gold and black long sleeve sequin shirt.

He lifts her onto the bathroom counter with a grunt and begins to delicately comb her thick mane of hair. Alan hands her a handful of q-tips to keep her occupied while he deftly pulls her hair in a french braid.

"There you go, sweetheart. Squeaky clean and cute as a button," he says looking at her smiling face in the mirror and places a kiss on top of her head before picking her off the counter.

Once the room service arrived he makes quick work to set up the small round dining table on the outside balcony overlooking the Eiffel tower and the rest of the city.

He lays three placemats and sets of cutlery on the table and grabs three wine tumblers from the cart. He fetches Alyson from the front room and places her in a chair at the table.

He removes her macaroni and cheese from under the silver dome on the cart and places it in front of her.

"Thank you, Daddy," she smiles.

"You're welcome, my sweet," he replies as she tucks into her meal.

He grabs a seat next to her and fills their glasses with sparkling water.

Just then (Y/N) came through the suite door calling out from inside, "Hey, where is everyone?"

"We're on the balcony, Love," Alan calls after her and clears his throat.

"Wow, you two having a date?" she says playfully walking over to her family. Alan chuckles and motions for her to sit down on his knee.

"We were waiting on your arrival. It's beautiful, isn't it?"

She gingerly sits down on his knee and wraps one arm around his neck for support. He wraps his arm in turn around her waist. She takes a moment to look around - the sun is just about to set casting pink, purple, and deep blue shades in the sky.

The Eiffel Tower's lights twinkle in the sunset no less than 100 meters away from their balcony. Beautiful pink cherry blossoms line the black iron wrought railings and small fairy lights hide between the leaves, setting a beautiful scene. (Y/N) sighs in content.

"Indeed. It's very beautiful. Makes we wish we could capture this moment and store it away forever."

Alan places a loving kiss on her plump cheek, "let's eat before the food gets cold. We're leaving in an hour from now. I took the liberty of placing your garments on the bed and Aly is already bathed, dressed, and ready to go."

She looks lovingly into his chestnut eyes and softly rubs his earlobe.

"Whatever will I do without your help, _my husband_?" She places a soft kiss on his forehead and he closes his eyes before lifting the dome of their food.

Blinding overhead spotlights heat up the room as they light the catwalk running through the crowd. (Y/N) and Alan got front row seats while Aly was allowed to hang out with Karl's partner backstage.

(Y/N) reluctantly let her go after Alan had to reassure her that Aly would be in safe hands and that she would probably have more fun with the make-up crew than having to sit still in front of strangers.

Next to Alan sat Kanye and Kim, and Anna Wintour shared the space next to (Y/N). She never really liked Anna but knew that having her as a contact would be beneficial in the future.

Alan discreetly leans into his wife and whispers in her ear, "this guy next to me won't stop touching my knee."

She averts her gaze towards Alan's leg and sees Kanye's knee rubbing against Alan's every time he moves to talk to someone. She rolls her eyes and laughs quietly.

"Darling, do you even know who that is?"

"Does it have to matter? He can not sit still for two seconds without rubbing his body parts all over me," Alan replies with an exasperated sigh and a click of his tongue.

"Oh my God. Stop being such a child," she says smiling from ear to ear at Alan's discomfort and lovingly laces her fingers with his, resting their intertwined hands on his thigh.

A group of event-organised cameramen stops by their seats noting down their names and taking publicity shots of the couple. _Power couple_.

While Alan is looking dapper in his black Armani blazer, black dress shirt, and his khaki dress pants, (Y/N) is turning heads in a black satin square-cut haute couture wrap dress (gifted from Karl's collection) with a black diamond staple necklace. Her outfit is rounded off with smokey eyes, nude lipstick, and black Mary Jane pump heels.

(Y/N) puts on a big smile for the camera, showing off her dimples while Alan gives his usual I'm-sorry-you-get-paid-to-take-pictures-of-my-ugly-face smile and they assume their earlier positions as soon as the cameras leave.

After a few more minutes the strobe lights start flashing, signaling the start of the show, giving Alan an instant headache.

The thunder of a drum accompanies the first model on the catwalk and the show is officially in full swing. Loud music blare over speakers as model after model make their way past the couple and past the rest of the 1000+ audience members.

Alan can only pretend to be interested in this. He fully supports his wife's career in fashion, having learned the ins and outs of the fashion business first hand from her, but he could never understand why young women would starve themselves in order to walk around in impractical pieces of clothing that you probably wouldn't be able to wear to work or out on a grocery run.

He frowns and pouts his mouth as his eyes follow the passing model sporting yet another tweed jacket.

 _Honestly, how many more styles can Chanel pull off with the same fabric?_ he thought incredulously.

He looks over at his wife and the world stops for a minute. Her face lights up at seeing every new piece of clothing enter the runway. Her eyes follow each model until they are no longer in sight, no doubt taking in every detail and analysing every stitch.

She stares on in amazement while commenting on every piece she likes. And _this_ is why Alan does it.

 _This_ is why he drags himself across continents, enduring human incubators, blinding lights, flashing cameras, noisy A-list celebrities, and throbbing headaches. He would do all _this_ just to see the smile it puts on his beautiful wife's face.

He smiles to himself at the realisation and forces himself to enjoy the last of the models. Just as the last model walks off, all the models come back on with Karl walking centerstage in his signature snow-white hair, dark sunglasses, black gloves, and full-on black attire.

Suddenly the room is filled with silver confetti falling from the ceiling and red roses are tossed onto the runway.

Alan and (Y/N) stand up along with all the guests, clapping hands and cheering the mastermind behind the collection.

Alan looks over to (Y/N) and catches her wiping away a tear that escaped from her eye as she gives her final cheers to the last collection of her dear friend.


End file.
